


Tannin of The Mind

by JWood201



Category: Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Chateau Picard, Gen, I don't know anything about vineyards, La Barre, Pre-Picard AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 06:48:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JWood201/pseuds/JWood201
Summary: Jean-Luc Picard gets some unexpected company in La Barre.





	Tannin of The Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what the timeline of this should be – Number One should not be around when these OCs are this age – but the trailer dropped and I had a lot of feelings about Picard all alone in his vineyard and then Frakes said that Riker and Troi are “non-military” in the new series and my friend was a bad influence, so here’s a thing!
> 
> Also, I tried to come up with a meaningful wine-related title, but I don't know anything about wine. The Internet says, "as a characteristic of wine, tannin adds both bitterness and astringency, as well as complexity," so there we go.

He hears them before he even really knows they’re there. The noise seeps back into his subconscious like the familiar din of another lifetime. Voices rising and falling in conversation, laughter, argument.

The sun beats down on his shoulders and the morning dew spreads across the knee of his trousers as he bends to the grapes. He was so used to these noises that he doesn’t immediately realize that they’re out of place here.

A male voice, indignant, plays at the edge of his perception. The female, sighing and gently authoritative, follows just as he expects. For a moment he’s back in the center seat on the Enterprise-D, trapped in the middle of the endless banter of history during long boring bridge shifts. But these voices are too high, too young.

A third voice barrels into the conversation almost violently, laughs, and surges forward in endless peaks and valleys of expression.

Jean-Luc finally lifts his head. Beside him, Number One gives a sharp bark of recognition and his ears twitch.

Three figures are approaching on the road, hazy in the heat. The woman in the center, tall and elegant and overdressed, clutches small hands in each of hers. She swings their arms playfully as they bound alongside her, arguing with each other, dark hair flying in the breeze.

Jean-Luc stands and squints into the distance and they see him immediately, a tiny frowning face popping up between the grapes, his peaceful solitude shattered.

“Tonton!” they scream and charge at him, small dust clouds rising up in their wake. Number One has the audacity to back up.

In a moment, they’re on him. The girl climbs him like a tree and wraps her arms around his neck. The boy attaches himself to Jean-Luc’s left leg and he laughs despite himself. He pulls his face out of the thick cloud of curly hair suffocating him and somehow gets an arm around each of the children. He tries to catch the girl’s eye, but she turns away abruptly and hugs him harder.

The woman is in front of him now. Older, like him. Endless laughter has carved deep lines around her eyes. Tragedies have long since etched a shadow across her brow, but new indescribable love has amplified the sparkle in her eyes. Over her shoulder, a tiny face peeks out of the pack on her back and it gurgles at him, outstretching a chubby arm.

Lwaxana Troi grins. “Surprise!”

\---

“Our luggage will be arriving from the village shortly, but the children insisted on walking. Can you imagine?” Lwaxana trills as they walk toward the house. Eliza bounces ahead with Number One, her fingertips trailing over the fur on his back. “But you know what they say, Jean-Luc. When in Rome.” She waves a hand vaguely across the landscape. “Or wherever.”

Jean-Luc had taken the baby from Lwaxana’s back and she forged ahead before he could hand her back. He cradles her awkwardly in his grape-stained arms and her tiny fingers wrap around his thumb. He clears his throat, trying to dislodge months of cobwebs. “So, the formidable Ambassador Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, babysits now?”

She arches a still-perfect eyebrow at him. “It’s not babysitting if they’re yours, Admiral.” He frowns slightly and a touch of shame dissipates at the edges of her senses. “They’re with me during the Betazed summers. And when the Titan is on particularly … perilous missions.” Andrew doesn’t look up from between them, so she’s reassured she’s chosen a word the children don’t know yet. The four year old grabs a handful of her skirt to keep him upright on the uneven path.

Jean-Luc nods. “So you’ve come to France to escape the summer heat, then?”

Lwaxana runs her fingers through her grandson’s hair. “No.”

He nods again and looks down at the baby. She smiles when she sees she has his attention and waves a tiny bat’leth rattle at him. It hits him in the chin and she laughs.

“I couldn’t sit there any longer waiting for a disaster to hit me. The anxiety was too much. I can’t control it as easily anymore. So,” Lwaxana brightens and looks down at Andrew, “we thought we’d go visiting. Isn’t that right, Little One?”

“Xanny said we came to see you ‘cause you’re lone—.”

Lwaxana laughs loudly and clamps a hand over his mouth. “_Lovely_! Because you’re a _lovely_ man who would love a visit from your favorite nieces and nephew. Right, darling?” Andrew nods, his grey eyes wide over her sparkling rings.

Eliza has slowed to a stop on the path ahead. Her hand rests on Number One’s warm back and she raises her face to the sun. The real sun, not a holographic, unsympathetic sun. She inhales deeply – the sun, the grapes, the earth. “Also, we missed you.”

\---

Andrew runs ahead into the house and skids to a stop when the empty silence hits him. He peers across the room, strains his ears across the house, and cocks his head to one side, searching. His tiny brow furrows. He looks Jean-Luc square in the eye and frowns. “Beberly?”

Dust particles hang suspended in the sunlight sneaking through the cloudy windows. Jean-Luc kneels down beside the boy and raises his eyes to the ceiling. “She’s on her ship.”

Andrew tilts his head back until he almost falls on his backside, staring at the cracked plaster as if he can see into the cosmos. “Why?”

“Because she’s helping people. It’s what she wants.”

Andrew looks back at him. “I want her to be here.” It’s so simple.

Jean-Luc thinks about baby Andrew falling asleep in Beverly’s arms, his face pressed against her neck, red hair clutched in his fist. His little face lighting up every time he saw her. Following her everywhere, toddling after her through the vineyard, the Fifth House, and the Titan’s corridors. Aunt Beverly carrying him around the park on Betazed, telling him about the flowers and the bugs and the birds.

It’s simple. “So do I.”

\---

“How long has she been gone?” Lwaxana asks later that evening.

“Eight months,” he says it out loud for the first time, staring deep into his wine glass.

It’s the last thing he expected. Lwaxana Troi in his living room in La Barre, a glass of Chateau Picard red in her hand, her stocking feet on his coffee table, Eliza and Number One snoring softly from the carpet in front of the fireplace. And yet here she is, the last thing he expected, which should have made it the only thing to reasonably expect.

“And you’re a vintner now?” Lwaxana swirls the wine in her glass, contemplates it, then shrugs. “Not a bad one at that.”

“Apparently so.” Jean-Luc looks down at the baby asleep on his chest and rests a comparatively giant hand across her back. It rises and falls with each breath. Her tiny bat’leth hangs from one limp fist.

“Worf is her – what do you humans call it again? – her godfather,” Lwaxana says when she catches his thoughts meandering by.

Jean-Luc is staring down at her like she’s a previously undiscovered species, peering with wonder at her long eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. “I can’t believe I haven’t met her.”

“You weren’t at her naming ceremony on Betazed.”

“No.”

“Did you have a good reason?”

Jean-Luc looks up at Lwaxana and his mind momentarily goes completely blank. She watches him evenly. “No.”

“It’s alright. You’re a vintner now.” Lwaxana tosses back the rest of the wine in her glass and reaches for the bottle on the side table. “Kestra understands.” Jean-Luc frowns and rubs the baby’s back idly. “And you enjoy this?”

“It’s my family’s legacy. I’m what’s left of the family.”

“But it doesn’t feel like home.”

Jean-Luc turns away. He’s somehow gotten used to her knowing more about him than he does and a surprisingly comfortable silence stretches out between them. A cool breeze drifts in through the open doors. Lightning bugs flicker in the fields. Andrew is asleep between them on the sofa, his head in his grandmother’s lap. Lwaxana idly twirls one curl around her finger.

“Where is the Titan now?”

“I don’t know. Classified.” Lwaxana smiles wryly. “That’s never good.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s dangerous,” he offers helpfully, but she fixes him with a look. She knows diplomatic speak as well as he does.

“No. It’s bad. I can feel it.”

Her hand stills in Andrew’s hair and Jean-Luc reaches out to squeeze it reassuringly. They’re both so much older. Mellower. Happier and sadder. Lwaxana peers up at him; she can’t help herself. “Control yourself, Jean-Luc, there are children present.” She smirks and they both laugh.

“Will and Deanna will be alright,” he says and retrieves his hand with one final pat.

“They’re your legacy, Jean-Luc.”

“What?”

“Not the wine. Not this house. You and your accomplishments. The peace you’ve brokered all over the galaxy.” Lwaxana gestures widely with her wine glass, a few drops sloshing over the edge. “It's the people you’ve inspired. These children.”

A small laugh escapes him. “No, they’re _your_ legacy.”

Lwaxana smiles down at Eliza, dead asleep with her mouth open and one arm slung over Number One’s back, and brushes Andrew’s hair off of his forehead. “Not entirely.”

Andrew begins whimpering in her lap. His face crumples. He turns halfway onto his back and starts calling for his mother. Lwaxana shushes him gently and closes her eyes, concentrating. She projects something to him and almost immediately he calms, turning to rub his cheek into the fabric of her skirt.

“He has nightmares. Klaxons and torpedoes and – they call them ship-quakes.” Lwaxana laughs quietly. “They’re only fun for so long. That’s why they’re not going back.”

Jean-Luc raises his eyebrows. “Ever?”

Lwaxana hesitates, not sure if this is her news to report. That’s never stopped her before, however. “This is Captain Riker’s final mission.”

Jean-Luc chokes on his wine and Kestra grumbles in her sleep. “He’s _retiring_?”

“If you recall, Jean-Luc, he put his career first once before and we all saw how that turned out. You’re the one who had to sit between it for over a decade.”

Jean-Luc nods, his brow furrowing. “As stubborn as he is, Will Riker does usually learn from his mistakes.”

“William keeps talking about puppies and barbecues and … Little League.” Lwaxana shrugs. “Whatever that is. I don’t even care what kind of nonsense he’ll get himself into on Betazed.” Lwaxana smiles brilliantly and the years fall away and she’s as vibrant and stunning as ever. “They’re coming home.”

\---

“Tonton?”

“Yes, Eliza?”

“Do you stomp the grapes with your feet like the lady in that old entertainment program?”

Jean-Luc peers down at the seven year old beside him. She’s stopped to study the nearest grapevine particularly closely. She squeezes one grape carefully, testing it, imagining it squishing between her toes. “You mean Lucy?”

“Yeah.”

“No, we have machines for that.”

Eliza frowns, clearly disappointed. “Oh. That looks like fun, you should do that.”

“I’ll alert the crews. Come along. We have much ground to cover.”

Jean-Luc starts through the field again, Number One and Eliza trotting behind him.

“Tonton?”

“Yes?”

“Is it hard to take care of a dog?” Number One barks in recognition licks her hand.

“Not particularly. They need food and water and a warm bed and someone to love them.”

Jean-Luc watches their shadows stretch out in front of them. His shadow doesn’t stand quite as straight as it used to. Eliza’s shadow skips along beside him, her hair landing a full beat after she does.

“I’m getting a puppy,” she announces.

“I heard. I bet your father is very excited about it.”

“Yep. He wants to name it Kevin ‘cause that’s not a dog name, but Mommy says that’s dumb. She wants to name it Captain.”

Jean-Luc laughs louder than he has in a long time. “Touché.”

Number One bounds ahead, his tail wagging so hard he can’t run in a straight line. The sunlight on is hot on Jean-Luc’s head and he hears Beverly in the back of his mind chastising him for forgetting his hat again.

“Tonton? _Are_ you lonely?”

“Of course not.” Eliza says nothing, just waits very patiently, the way her mother used to, and he squirms in the silence. He smiles lamely, but not insincerely, and squints against the sun. “How can I be lonely with you all here?”

“I miss Aunt Beverly, too,” she says. It’s so simple.

Jean-Luc thinks about Eliza peering over Beverly’s shoulder as she fixed a cut on his hand, eyes wide with fascination. Beverly showing her how to shoot spitballs at him without anyone noticing. The two of them performing elaborate reenactments of old cowboy movies. Aunt Beverly teaching her how to tap dance.

“But you want to go back to space.” It’s a statement, not a question, and he exhales wistfully before he can stop himself. Eliza shakes her head matter-of-factly. “Don’t do it. It’s scary.”

“Sometimes,” he concedes. “But sometimes … sometimes it’s _beautiful_. The stars, the planets, the different cultures and life forms. Humanity is –.”

Eliza’s shadow has disappeared and Jean-Luc squints back up the row of plants. She’s stopped a few yards behind him. “Come on, I need your help today.” Jean-Luc holds out his hand toward her, but she’s frowning at the ground.

“Are they coming back?” Eliza whispers and his hand drops to his side.

Jean-Luc walks back to her and carefully kneels down in the grass. Number One tilts his head curiously. “Of course they are.”

“Grandpa Ian didn’t come back. And Wesley’s daddy. And Data.”

The silence hangs heavy in the air. The familiar feeling of the morning dew on his knee. The sun on his head. Number One breathes quietly beside him, watching the girl closely. “They will come home. I’m sure of it.”

“Xanny’s not.”

Lwaxana had woken in the middle of the night, a magnificent fear simultaneously pressing down on her chest and bursting from her heart. Her ears were ringing, her arms numb, her legs weak beneath her. Jean-Luc found her sitting at the top of the stairs, framed by the moonlight streaming in the window behind her. Beverly would have known what to do. Lwaxana gasped for air. It was hot. Panic like fireworks behind her eyes. Desperation igniting in her stomach. A mysterious pain in her left leg. Jean-Luc sat down beside her and gently pressed his shoulder against hers so she knew he was there. Eventually she calmed, the fear receding from her like the tide. She exhaled and turned to look at him, exhaustion settling in deep shadows across her face. “They’re okay now,” she whispered, blinking the moisture from her dark eyes, and laid her head on his shoulder.

“Elizabeth, look at me.” She shakes her head and keeps her eyes trained on her shoes. Jean-Luc sighs. “It is true that she felt some scary things last night, but she only feels them so strongly because she loves your mother so much.”

Eliza slowly raises her chin to look at him. The biggest, brightest eyes – one deepest black and one sparkling blue, each containing a whole world. Space and sky, night and day. He sat between them for over a decade. She doesn’t look directly at people much, and he smiles. “I felt it, too.” It was the last thing he expected to hear and Jean-Luc’s eyes widen as she puts her little hand over her heart and winces slightly. “Here.”

“Then you also felt how it all turned out alright in the end, didn’t you?” She shrugs vaguely and he tries not to let his sudden melancholy overwhelm them both. She’s too young to feel so strongly and at such great distances. “The mission is over. They’ll be home soon.”

“I don’t want to feel everything.”

“It will not be easy. But your empathy is your greatest strength. And the good things will make up for the bad things. Can’t you feel how happy your Xanny is that you’re with her? How much she loves you?” Eliza nods. “What does it feel like? Tell me.”

“It feels like … like flowers are growing out of my heart.” She smiles a little, kind of lopsided, like her father. “Warm like my blanket and your fireplace. It’s like magic.”

“Can you feel how grateful I am that you’ve come to keep me company?”

Eliza concentrates. “You feel young. And comfortable. Like you're in your Captain’s chair.”

“And can you feel how excited Number One is that you’re here to play with him?”

Number One barks happily and she laughs. “Its like too much sugar and birthday presents.”

“I’m jealous. I wish I could feel that.”

“I still don’t think I’ll be a very good Betazoid.”

“You will. You already are. You’re _my_ favorite Betazoid.” Her eyes widen and he winks. “That’s a secret. We’ll let your mother and grandmother think what they will. Alright?” Eliza nods and her curls bounce around her head. “Don’t ever be ashamed of where you come from.”

Eliza touches the Picard family crest pinned over his heart, where his Starfleet comm badge used to be. “You, too.”

Jean-Luc smiles and pulls himself slowly to his feet. He holds out his hand again and she takes it this time. “Come. We have a busy day ahead of us,” he says as they continue through the field.

“Tonton?” she asks after a moment.

Jean-Luc laughs. “What now?”

“What’s Little League?”

**Author's Note:**

> My French is rusty, but “tonton” is way cuter than “oncle” and the Internet said they were interchangeable, so here’s hoping that's correct.


End file.
